In A Different Time & Place
by Love is a Ring Toss Game
Summary: This story picks up after S1 Episode 18 - "I wasn't the one who thought we were wrong. If anything we were never wrong for each other. The thing that doesn't make sense is watching the thing you knew was right, the person that completed you walk away."
1. We Aren't in Rosewood Anymore

**A/N: From the outset, if you like this please review, I will not post new chapters if their isn't enough intrest. I have other stories to work on and I'm in University full time. I guess what I'm trying to say is that this is a hobby and I won't make it a priority without others making reviewing a priority. -B ****:) **

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Chapter 1

"**We Aren't in Rosewood Anymore"**

_In a different time and place the words could make more sense.  
In a perfect world, the future wouldn't make a dent._

_"155" by +44 _

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I wasn't the one who thought we were _wrong_. If anything we were never _wrong_ for each other. At sixteen a lot of things don't make sense, especially considering the mayhem that follows the death of a best friend and the breakdown of your family. In some ways those things do make sense, death is natural, every breath we take kills us and half of all marriages end in divorce. These things are sensible if you are really cynical about it.

The thing that doesn't make sense is watching the one thing you knew was _right_, the one person that completed you and the one thing that kept you grounded walk away, without saying goodbye. Okay well that isn't explicitly true, but things said in voice mail don't really count in my book.

"_**Aria, I'm sorry things have to end this way but someday you'll realize that this is for the best...I lo...you're a special girl you deserve more than this. In a different time or place things might have worked between us...Aria, I never wanted to hurt you and I wish you all the best in life."**_

The funny thing is time can fly by and it still doesn't make sense, not really. I mean I've tried to rationalize it; there are all the logical reasons in the world, but since when is love logical? Who says that two people who are so perfect for each other they could share one soul should be ruined because of a minor detail like age. I mean look at Romeo and Juliet? Okay bad example, but really in some cultures there would be nothing abnormal about a mature sixteen year old and a 21 year old falling in love. Less than a hundred years ago nobody would have batted an eye at the notion. Think Elvis and Priscilla, arguably another not so great example but Ezra and I, we would have been different. Yet, sadly that option wasn't even given a fighting chance. Today in our society, it is suddenly _wrong_. Give me a break. How could fate bring us together only to shatter all illusions right before my eyes at the lowest point in my life? That will never make sense.

That was rock bottom. I know a lot of people might have thrown themselves into drugs, alcohol or something else equally destructive but I just wanted to grow up. I was sick of hearing I was too young. I was sick of the stupid box that teenagers are constantly placed in. I was sick of Rosewood. Everywhere I went was a bitter reminded of everything that I was being denied because I wasn't mature enough. I spent the summer working towards my GED. My dad pulled some strings at New York University and they let me enroll despite missing the application deadline. I guess it bothered me that I still needed my father, I mean after the way things went with my mom, I felt like it was wrong to still need him as much as I did.

4 hours is a long bus ride from home. I promised Hanna, Spencer and Emily that I'd be back to visit as much as I could but I think we all knew it was a lie. Lies were what we were good at, I guess we just expected it and accepted it after a while.

First semester was hell, but I was busy. Too busy to think, too busy to dwell on it and for a time I forgot about everything. That is until I was able to breathe in reading week.

That's where this whole saga starts; hang on to your hats. It is one hell of a journey.

Rosewood never had a Starbucks; it had coffee houses with personality and uniqueness. Starbucks wasn't like that, you knew exactly was each one would look like simply by setting foot inside a single one of them. That could have been why I was drawn to it. It shouted from the rooftops that I wasn't in Rosewood anymore. It certainly wasn't because I like the exploitation of Third World farmers so that ___corporate_ heads could make an obscene amount of money. I needed a job and so I applied.

Where else but New York to work in a Starbucks? Seriously the city really never sleeps and it also runs on caffeine and probably some illegal stimulants too. My job was chaos; I mean really going to work was like stepping into a whirlwind that didn't let up until you stumbled your way through the crowd at shifts end.

Strangely enough I liked it. Loved it even, I couldn't even hear my own thoughts when I was working. You can't pay money for that kind of serenity, so to be paid for it was icing on the cake.

Reading week shouldn't have been different. I had decided not to go home to Rosewood over break. I know I promised the girls I visit whenever I could, but text messages and Facebook messages had been few and far between, so I wasn't going to feel guilty about it. I wasn't ready to go back yet, I hadn't changed enough yet.

I know I shouldn't have been shocked, I was washing down the counter and when I looked up, Hanna and Spencer were standing a few feet away, looking perfectly fashioned as always, Hanna had a cocky smirk in place and Spence a genuine smile.

"See, I knew she would be happy to see us!" Hanna said to Spencer, who shot her a bit of a dark look.

"I never said she wouldn't be happy to see us, I said she might be really busy with courses and work." Spencer stated loud enough to be sure I heard in the bustle of the coffee shop.

"And the boyfriend can't forget the boyfriend." Hanna added, giving me a knowing look.

"Um, no boyfriend, but I have been crazy busy. I'm so glad you guys are here! How long are you staying?" I asked, tossing the bar cleaner and cloth on to the spot underneath the counter where it was kept. "Jackson, I'm going to take my break." I told him, before asking Hanna and Spence if they wanted anything.

"I'll put it on my tab." I offered.

"No, heck no, my mother gave me money for meals and food and drinks and god I think she was super tired of seeing me mopping around the house, but seriously on me." Spencer rattled off.

"Why were you mopping?" I asked.

"Well, okay I should probably say because I missed you so much, but that is only half of it." Spencer stated.

"Suck up." Hanna commented from beside her.

"Alex and I broke up, almost two months ago now." Spencer confided. I passed her a piping hot chia tea. They had been on again off again for months before that, I wasn't really surprised but she sounded as if it was really _over_ this time.

"I'm sorry Spence, how am I just hearing about this now?" I asked, putting on the face of sympathy, it felt like the right thing to do.

"Come on Aria, you're the University hotshot and the rest of us are just graduating this year, I'm sure our Rosewood problems are incredibly boring when your living it up in New York." Spencer smiled.

"Seriously? I thought you guys just forgot all about me." I told them, handing Hanna her skinny latte.

"Aria, we would never just forget about you! We just thought you have better things to do like hooking up with a certain English teacher who happens to live in the same city." Hanna stated, offering a wink as she said it.

"What? What are you even talking about?" I demanded in a hushed tone.

"Oh come on, you can't tell me you haven't internet stalked _him_." Hanna stated, "I mean I did, I just thought you knew."

"No, I didn't know, I've been trying to move past it, if you really want to know."

"Move past it? Did she actually just say that?" Hanna exclaimed and then looked to Spencer with a baffled expression.

Spencer just nodded and politely sipped her chia tea latte.

"The Aria I knew would never give up." Hanna stated.

"Yeah well the Aria you knew didn't give up, she got _given up on_, and so that's a bit of a moot point." I told her with a small measure of hostility.

"But this isn't Rosewood; things could be so much different. He is teaching a York Prep." Hanna said excitedly.

"How do you know this stuff?" Spencer asked to my relief. "It's just a bit creepy."

"Rate my Teacher, he's a 4.0 and has a lot of fans." Hanna stated, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry, I did not mean it like that, he is a good teacher though and I'm sure some of the comments were from guys." Hanna continued, trying to rectify the situation, but it was a bit late.

"He wished me all the best in life." I told her almost without dwelling on it. I had spent too much time doing that.

"So?" Hanna asked.

"Issue number 1, it's the type of thing you write on report cards for students you have nothing better to say about. Issue number 2, it's resolutely final. He never said call me when your 18. He could have said that. Why didn't he say that?"

"Oh no, don't cry, I'm horrible with tears. Spencer you're good with this kind of thing, do something." Hanna stated.

"Aria, I think he wanted you live your life. I don't think he would ever ask you to wait around for him. It wouldn't be fair to you."

"Well a lot of good that did me." I scoffed, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

"When is your shift over? Your mom said we could stay at your guys place, but we wanted to see you first." Spencer asked.


	2. Wanting a Reason

Chapter 2

"**Wanting a Reason"**

_I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together._

_- Marilyn Monroe_

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The girls had left; Spencer almost teary with a sad smile waving docilely, as if she was the queen of somewhere; Hanna blowing kisses and waving violently, then miming a cell phone and mouthing _call him_ as their bus pulled out. I stood at the bus depot, aimlessly staring after them, watching the bus disappear. They were gone.

I sighed, the weekend had been enjoyable. A complete surprise but just like old times, I would really miss them. We watched movies in our pajamas; made a fort to sleep in out of blankets in the living room and had pancakes at the 50's style diner that was a few blocks east of our apartment. Spencer made us and paid for us to take a hot yoga class since Rosewood didn't have that. It was embarrassing, hilarious but fully embarrassing. We laughed, cried and ate a lot of junk food, to Hanna's dismay. Then on Sunday we did a walk around Central Park, then grabbed hotdogs from a street vender and did some window shopping. In the evening, we all ducked into a coffee shop, I even convinced my mom to join us, and had lattes and listen to the acoustic guitar music that a girl was playing on the back stage. It was relaxing and I felt as if I had been filled up with new energy.

By Monday they were on the bus and back to Rosewood.

I'd miss them properly this time because I felt they understood me now. They weren't angry that I had split from our little herd and taken on this part of life that we had sworn we'd go through together as kids. When I told them that I had been worried that they thought I was a trader, selling out on our dreams, both girls silenced my fears. Spencer had said teasingly that with the intense double major she was planning to take she would probably be dead before she finished her degrees and in the end it wouldn't matter that I had a head start. Hanna laughed as she told me,

"I'm not going to university Aria; I might take some design classes at Rosewood College, but no degree for me. So I'm not angry." Then Hanna changed the topic "Do you think I should open a boutique after school is out?"

The time together had been wonderful but it also had churned everything back up again. It made me think about him. It made me think about all the things I still didn't know. What was he doing in New York? When did he come here, was I here first or had I inadvertently followed him? Why was he here? This was _my _city. Did he know I was here? Did this mean anything? Why did he leave? It always came back to that. What made him give up on me?

I wanted a reason. The logical side of me pleaded for an explanation, the whimsical told me that an explanation, whatever it was, would not give any sort of real freedom or true clarity. As twisted as it might sound I believed both were correct, I believed both were wrong, in fact I didn't really know what to believe anymore.

One thing was for certain I really needed to stop thinking about him. When I got home to mom's apartment I changed my clothing. I had thought I would go to the gallery mom co-managed, and start on the project that my Art History professor had assigned. It wasn't due for another month but I hated to be idle, idleness was a major factor in thinking too much, thinking in that way always dredged everything up.

I had just finished selecting the five pieces I was going to write on. The assignment was to draw similarities between historically iconic pieces and some of the works on display in the galleries around New York.

There was movement at the entrance of the exhibit. I hesitated mid-way through collecting my things from the place I had been sitting on the ground and simply stared at the couple. My heart did a sharp slam against my rib cage. Through the semi frosted glass that divided the different sections of the gallery, it was him. I froze unable to move as the two figures moved past the glass divider and enter the room. My vantage point wasn't ideal, but it was good enough for me to realize there were other tall men in New York that had his dark brown hair, styled in the way I remembered. I hated myself for being so stupid and letting myself jump to conclusions.

New York was huge, just because they lived in the same metropolis didn't mean I would ever see him. That was best, he didn't want me and seeing him wasn't going to help that.

I swore to myself I wouldn't think of him. I told myself emphatically that I wouldn't but trudged six blocks in the rain back to the apartment, doing just that. Think of Ezra Fitz and his stupid brown hair and how great it felt to run my hands through it. Wondered what he was doing, what he was reading, what he was writing. I wished I knew even something as trivial as what he thought of the subway system, if he found it strangely serene like I did. And unfortunately wondering if he was thinking of me, if he ever did. Then I wondered if I would have walked away in that bar so long ago, if I knew this was how things would play out? Or maybe the real questions was could I have been able to? Would I have physically been able to tear myself away from that kind of magnetic attraction? Something whispered that I couldn't have changed things if I tried…not that I was convinced I wanted to.

Drenched and feeling sad, something had to give.

I hung up my stuff and then entered the kitchen, I was about to head to to fridge to make something to eat but the mail on the island counter caught my attention. A bigger envelope was set apart from the stack. My mother usually sorted the mail, normally she'd set our mail apart. I didn't get letters very often. This one was a big eight by eleven manila envelope. My dad's writing on the front. The way the letter was positioned on the counter, almost looked as if my mother had picked it up, read the return address and dropped it as if burnt. Generally my mother was a little bit OCD, so the piles were always positioned in a neat and orderly fashion. The mail told me my mother was still upset, still hurting. It bothered me slightly that this information was never said directly, she acted as if the world was right and that nothing was wrong. The mail said differently.

I picked it up, the only other mail for me was my cell bill.

I stared at the envelope. My dad was an e-mailer, not a snail mail guy. Why was it a huge envelope? Curiosity prevailed and I opened the envelope excitedly.

It was an issue of 'Write Words" magazine. I looked at it puzzled, but then noticed a small plain white envelope was also inside the larger manila one. I opened that as well.

**Congratulations Aria Montgomery, **

**The poem you submitted has been accepted and had been included in the October issue of **_**Write Words**_**,****Thank you for participating and as thanks for your contribution please accepts this $50 dollar gift card to Barnes and Noble. We hope you will continue to support our magazine by making it your first choice literature directed magazine and with your creativity, with the hope that we will see more submissions from you in the future, **

**Sincerely, **

**Write Words President,**

**Farrah Wallace**

I was stunned. I hardly remember entering the contest. Ezra had encouraged it. The work I submitted had been about him, it hadn't even told him I'd taken his advice. I wanted to see what would happen first. I thought for sure it would get rejected and then I was going to tell him, that I wasn't as talented as he thought. My stomach tied itself into knots, would he see it? Would he know it was about him?

Suddenly I felt sick, felt like retching. Then I just felt mad. How dare he encourage me? He never should have told me to take on my dreams or to take a chance and try things. He promised you couldn't make mistakes submitting writing to a magazine. They either accepted it or they didn't; regardless of their choice there were no mistakes.

He was wrong. This had been a mistake, my thoughts and feelings from a time when everything was prefect were preserved in a published magazine. It would haunt me; torture me with its black and white lucidity. A lie, a big fat lie. That's all it was. That's all we were.

I looked at the issue sitting in my hands, flipping through it against my better judgment to see the page my work was on.

'_The Best Things' – By A. Montgomery _

_It's standing in the rain and not noticing the sting _

_It's eyes bright green shining, laughing with me…_

I quickly closed the magazine, not wanting to see it, not wanting to see anymore and mostly not wanting to feel anything anymore. I chocked back a sob as a fresh stream of tears flooded out and down my face without my consent. I hated this; why on earth did I ever listen to my heart in the first place?

Then I when to my room and started digging through my closet for my umbrella. I hated the stupid rain and I needed to get rid of this stupid gift card.

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A/N: LONG time. I know, I would like to know if anyone is interested in seeing this continue. IF _yes_, you **need** to review or this story is done. Thanks!


	3. Just a Piece of Time

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I am impressed; I've been away from the Fanfiction environment for so long. It seems crazy to get that number of reviews for a chapter, talk about motivating!

In other news, I have a link on my homepage to my fictionpress account, feel free to check that out. It's a new story, just getting off the ground. It is a quirky office place Romance/drama/humor. So check it out if you feel inclined! I love any feedback,

Thanks and I hope it continues!

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Songs I listened to while writing this chapter:

**"Breathe"- Taylor Swift**

**"Unsaid"- The Fray**

**"I Thought I Saw Your Face"- She & Him**

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**Chapter 3: Just a Piece of Time**

_I somehow see what's beautiful_  
_In things that are ephemeral_  
_I'm my only friend of mine_  
_And love is just a piece of time In the world_  
_In the world_  
_And I couldn't help but fall in love again_

"I Thought I Saw Your Face Today"-She & Him

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I took the stairs because I was too exasperated to wait for the elevator and I wanted desperately to burn off this rage fueled energy take was over taking. I wondered if this was what rock stars felt like because trashing their hotel rooms. They likely had the help of some wonderful drugs that took away the sting and burn of reality.

Reality was as dismal as New York weather in the fall. I popped my umbrella up once I step into the street and then mingled with the crowd. Busy, and bustling, just what I needed to take my mind and emotions away for a while.

I thought about just handing the gift card to a panhandler but I have the sinking suspicion that the panhandler type wouldn't have a use for such a gift. I was going to the store near Union Park and then I was going to bestow it on whoever looked the most deserving of 50 dollars in free books.

The walk didn't take a long as a thought I was bustled along with the crowd, and my feet felt like they had jets attached, I was so full of animosity and acrimony. I felt like I might rage at anyone who disturbed me. Thankfully crowds in New York aren't exactly strolls down Main Street in Rosewood. Nobody knows you, nobody bothers you. It's fantastic to live in a place where almost no one knows your name, it's quiet despite the noise, it is serene and beautiful, despite the litter and cigarettes butts that clung to the side walk.

Sooner than I expected I was staring at the big doors to Barnes and Nobel. Well this was it, I could go in, make someone's day and go back home to mope.

Closing my umbrella, I step into the store, half welcomed, half perturbed by the mass of people. It was almost six o'clock, didn't these people have families? Didn't they have dinners to be eating? Were all these people as miserable as I am?

I sighed and headed for the children's section. Maybe I would find some lucky kid to give the card to…

Truth be told, it didn't take long and girl that looked about 9 was standing in one of the isles. I offered the card to her and I explained to her that the card was just as good as real money and that it had 50 dollars on it and I wanted her to have it.

She looked skeptical, so I told her to tell her parents what I had said and they could help her use it. She smiled, but still looked a bit concerned, as if she thought I was only pulling her leg.

As I exited the store I felt this pull to walk over toward Central Park. I loved walking by the American Museum of Natural History; it made me feel as if I was in another place entirely. Like somewhere in Europe but not Reykjavik—Iceland wasn't glamorous. No, it felt like Paris or England, somewhere different and enchanted. I enjoyed walking there, staring up at the huge building that wasn't a skyscraper but instead majestic and fascinating. Apparently I like architecture, I never knew that about myself living in Rosewood, but I suppose that made sense.

I had nothing but time on my hands so I exited the bookstore and headed for the comfort that my destination would surly provide.

I was absorbed in my task, time, direction, the chilly night wind, none of it swayed me or had any sort of impact. I felt at moments like a feather on the wind, happily drifting with no concern for time or space, just floating. It was peaceful and appealing; I even made the mental note to do it more often.

It was in this drifting business, thoughts of him so far from my consciousness that I ended up, standing, staring at York preparatory school, from the far side of the street. What caught my attention was the man locking the entrance door, black leather satchel resting on the concrete steps, tall with dark brown hair.

It was that feeling again, like the first time we met where I couldn't pull away. I couldn't walk, couldn't tear my eyes away. Too quickly he had finished his task of locking the building and the satchel was in hand and then he was turning. I felt the air leave my lungs. How had I ended up here? I was off course and I might have known this had I not been so thoroughly absorbed in not thinking or feeling.

I knew the way to the Museum like the back of my hand. Yet, somehow I'd been distracted. Had I wanted to see this place so badly? Was I really such a sadist? Well, now I had really done it, naturally he took notice of the staring statue-like figure. One thing that stood out in New York was stillness, time moved so fast here, no one, while still living, ever stood motionless.

Graciously, at this point my feet were no longer fused with the sidewalk. They responded and surprisingly they responded with precision and speed. I was stepping away and it was his turn to stare.

"Aria?" He called, like he was unsure, maybe he wasn't certain who I was or maybe he wasn't certain I was real. If it were the last option, I was pleased my ghosts haunted him as his haunted me.

I didn't answer; I was going toward Central Park now. The museum would be in my sights in no time at the pace my legs were going.

The voice was louder this time, more steadfast, more sure of itself, it lacked the question when it called my name this time.

I ignored it as readily as I had the first time. What had I done? Why had I ventured here on some sort of sick whim? Was I supposed to hurt like this? It called again, this time in pursuit and my body panicked; was he really chasing me?

The fact that my arm and part of my coat were snagged confirmed it, moments afterward. Yes, he had, and now he had me caught up.

"Aria?" He said albeit breathlessly, it was comforting to know that I could still render him breathless, even if running had to be involved.

"Hi, um— I need to go." I whispered, finding myself breathless as well.

"I just ran two blocks, I think that means I deserve to know what you are doing here!" He exclaimed, the crease in his forehead showing an inkling of irritation and I wasn't sure why, nobody forced him to chase me down. Nobody forced him to be standing here.

"I was headed to the Museum of Natural History, but I got waylaid slightly when I saw you and I'm sorry, I need to go." I whispered, no longer breathless but not trusting my voice to have any of the strength required to speak in a louder tone.

"Aria, it is almost 7, the museum is closed and you really shouldn't be out alone at this time of night, it'll be dark soon." He told me, as if I was a tourist. As if I was a child.

"Please let go of my arm Ezra. I am aware that the museum is closed, I like it better at night because the people aren't around and I can pretend I'm somewhere else or even a different place in time if I want." I stopped myself. He didn't need to know that, he didn't deserve to know me or my reasons. He didn't get that privilege any longer.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, still holding my arm, as if he knew I would dart off at the first opportunity.

I blinked at him, as if I didn't understand the question.

"Here, in New York, I mean?" He offered.

"I'm studying." I replied vaguely and then gave my arm a slight pull.

"Can I walk you to the museum? Or can I walk you to where ever it is that you are staying?" He asked.

"I appreciate the offer, but I have pepper spray, I can manage myself," I told him wiggling the arm of my coat again for emphasis; reminding him that I was still being held and couldn't depart without my arm and coat sleeve.

"Can we talk? I'll walk with you; we can talk." He said, now sounding more determined, more emphatic.

"Why don't I give you my New York number and you can say anything that has been left unsaid in voice mail?" I said, it stocked me how cutting and sharp I was. It spoke volumes to the fact that I wasn't over it. I was still stung by the way things had ended and now I was returning the figurative slap in the face. "If you'll excuse me," I deadpanned

"Well, I guess I'll need your number first, if that's how you want to play this." He said, his body language revealed the hurt that his quick retort disguised. He had taken a step back, but still held my arm.

Everything in me wanted to give him a cheeky false number, 1-800-don't-waste-my-time or 1-888 don't-bother but I couldn't do it. I rattled off my cell number with quick efficiency and this time when I turned to leave I was met with no resistance and I looked back to see him frantically jotting it down on his hand.

I walked away as quickly as I could without breaking into a run. I didn't want him to know how badly our encounter had upset me.

Tears were prevalent, it was impossible to appreciate the structure of the building or imagine myself anywhere else when my eyes were flooded with tears. I couldn't imagine myself in Paris, I could imagine myself happy and worst of all I couldn't shake the heartache and loneliness that cloaked me. I walk a strange route home, purposely to avoid taking the path I had taken; in case I re-encountered Ezra, so he wouldn't have to see what a child I really was. So he wouldn't have to know how ruined I really was, so I could avoid having to admit that I was still as helpless as I had been when he gave up on us. So I wouldn't have to recognize the fact that I hadn't really learned anything, that I hadn't evolved, or that I was still the child he didn't want.

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**A/N: So I have a hunch that people aren't going to like Aria's reaction. Is this realistic, is she too harsh, too catty, top snarky? Any thoughts on Ezra are welcome as well. Please tell me if you think this is out of character for Aria… Review with any questions, comments or praise is always fantastic! **

**Thanks, you're all lovely! x3**

**I know Chapter 4 is up but _REVIEW_ THIS CHAPTER BEFORE SKIPPING TO THE NEXT ONE!  
**


	4. Call Me a Fool

**Okay, So I have no clue what happened the first time I tried to post this, some people could read it (hits were being counted, but not a lot), one person was even able to review...but others mentioned it wouldn't show the chapter. My computer also didn't recognize the new chapter. I pulled it totally at 12:30 last night, I have no clue what happened on this one, but I apologize and hope FF gets the bugs sorted out.  
**

**brandnewx3: Thanks, I'm Canadian and I've never been to New York (I venture there will someday!), so Google Maps is my best friend! I hoping nobody who is actually from New York is reading this because it is strictly from online research, which can sometimes be problematic.**

**Okay, to answer Notinyourlifetimehoney's question about where Emily is, I feel like it adds to the realism if not all of them can spend the weekend in New York. I know for me and my friends it is rare that all of us are free at any one time, let alone a whole weekend. If/when Aria goes back to Rosewood, it would be far more plausible for ALL of them to hang together, but I didn't feel it was realistic or necessary to include Emily. She is alive and well, but simply hasn't made an appearance yet. This will be an Aria/Ezra focused story, so I imagine that many characters will not be highlighted, please assume unless it is mentioned otherwise that everything is business as usual with the girls back in Rosewood.**

**Also from the first and second chapter it should be evident that Aria has isolated herself a little from her friends since moving to New York. So, the fact that she isn't putting a ton of emphasis on friends or even family so far should also reflect her emotional state, which is a bit closed off at this point.**

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Chapter 4: Call Me a Fool

Oh girl I don't know what to say  
I feel you love me less each day  
You seem so far away  
and there's not a kiss that's strong enough I could give to keep your love  
to change my mistake

Call Me a Fool-Doc Walker

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My English professor was mid lecture on _Poe's_ uses of imagery when my cellphone rang. I wasn't that student. My phone never interrupted lectures; I reached into my bag to silence it. The screen flashed a New York number that I didn't recognize, it wasn't my mom's, it wasn't Jamie Adams from my theater group and it wasn't anyone I knew from Starbucks. My gut told me it was Ezra. I hadn't expected him to actually attempt to contact me, especially not this soon. I felt compelled to answer it. Maybe it was because I wanted to hear his voice, or maybe I just didn't want to risk another voicemail bomb from him.

"Hello?" I whispered, ducking my head low and collecting my purse and binder, so I could exit quickly if the professor noticed and her evil eye got too intense.

"Aria? Hi, this is Ezra Fitz, I just wanted to make sure you got home okay last night, I would have called early but I was teaching all day." The formality, the fact that he included his last name, as if I wouldn't know who it was, as if he was making a call to the home to the parents of a rebellious student, as if I was a complete and utter fool, it killed me.

"Yeah, I got home just fine. Ezra, this actually isn't a good time, I'm in class right now. Would you be able to call back later?" I asked. Half of me wanting never to speak to him again and the other half was melting at the idea that he still cared, even if it was only out of duty or some latent sense of chivalry.

"Class? It is 4:25." He stated.

"I'm out at 5:20" I told him.

"5:20? Is it an extracurricular project? Where at? Can we meet and grab coffee?" He asked in quick succession. He sounded slightly desperate but I didn't tell him my observation.

"I'm sitting in an English Poetics and Theory lecture." I told him,

"Seriously?" He asked, laughing a little to himself.

"Yes, it was actually really good until you called, I should get back to it." I replied,

"Who is hosting it? I should come check it out."

"It's actually for a class," I informed him "It's a closed session, no audits."

"For a class? What class?"

"English 235" I told him, he was prying everything out of me; I would never be able to keep anything from him if we kept talking.

I felt the silence. Then he broke it after a long moment.

"You're taking a university class?" He half inquired half exclaimed, as if testing the words out, as his brain tried to piece it all together.

"Yes, five actually." I said, I kicked myself for saying it. It was the pride in me, the stupid part of me that felt so accomplished for being here and for having 'cheated the system' to make it happen. I was vain and it was stupid and now Ezra had even more information about my life, about me. The girl he didn't deserve to know.

"Really? We have to meet for coffee now, what campus?"

"NYU at the Arts and Sciences campus." I told him in a hushed almost whisper, why was I doing this to myself? Was I really a glutton for punishment?

"Wow. Just wow. At 5:20?"

"Maybe more like 5:30, by the archway." I stated. "See you then." I offered before ending the call. I felt like I was on fire and the professor hadn't even noticed my in class call, so it wasn't from being under scrutiny…it was Ezra.

I couldn't pay attention to the rest of the lecture. I couldn't stop thinking and yet I couldn't really start thinking either. I needed to get out of this predicament so badly! I felt the impulse to balk, to exit through the rear of the building and leave Ezra standing by the archway, alone, exactly the way he left me, well minus the architecture of course. Maybe then I could be the one to leave a vague and polite little message explaining things, like he had. That wouldn't do. I couldn't in good conscience do that to him. I needed an honest way out. My heart couldn't take this; it couldn't handle any of this.

Then I had it, an idea of how to semi-extract myself from this terrible situation. I needed to invite someone else, so that the conversation couldn't venture into the territory of the unknown, and would for propriety's sake have to remain surface level and tension free.

When the lecture let out, I quickly caught up to a girl named Jill who I had a presentation group with earlier in the semester. She greeted me politely, made adequate small talk and then looked like she was ready to leave.

"Uh, are you busy with something else now?" I asked, her expression was slightly confused. "I am supposed to be meeting this guy for coffee…a well, a sort of friend after class and I feel like maybe I shouldn't go alone." I told her, her eyebrows rose after I said that. It was clear she was thinking he was a would-be-rapist or stalker, at very least some kind of awful creep. "Oh, it is nothing like you are thinking, he is very nice and everything but…I just don't want to give him the wrong impression, if you know what I mean." I rattled out quickly, it sounded so rational, so plausible. I felt immensely proud of myself.

She glance at her cellphone, "Sure, I don't have to be anywhere for a few hours." She said, with a friendly smile. I guess she bought my reasoning.

"Thank you so much, I'll bring you Starbucks every class this semester." I smiled, doing an internal happy dance.

"Really! Would you be able to remember I like soy green tea lattes?" She asked, and then giggled.

"Sure I'm a barista, I always have a shift before this lecture, so I'll bring one every week."

Let's do this, I thought. I was giving myself an internal pep talk and Jill for her part was carrying our conversation, I only had to add the occasional, yeah, totally or for sure, as we rounded on the archway.

He was standing there looking good, I wasn't surprised that he looked good, he always did. I hated that I would always fine him striking, so alluring and attractive. It wasn't fair. I was rocking the 'I ran to class from work, messy ponytail hair' and he looked like James Dean. I knew my outfit was impeccable, dark wash jeans, a dark mocha belted tunic dress, warm espresso brown knee high boots, my favourite scarf for this season; it was cerulean and off set nicely with my boots. For warmth I had on a leather bomber jacket that a few shades darker than my boots, so it would almost pass as black but not quite. I was grateful I was at least wearing make-up, I didn't always, it helped that I was required to look alive at work and that for me make-up was essential to produce that effect in the mornings.

"Ezra, this is my classmate Jill; Jill this is Ezra." I told her, "Jill and I made coffee plans, but you are more than welcome to join us." I told him.

"Pleased to meet you Ezra," Jill offered, extending her hand so he could shake it. "You are absolutely welcome to join us." mimicked with a smile

"Thanks, nice to meet you as well, were you planning to go anywhere particular?"

"Somewhere off campus, the coffee house here is terrible." Jill told him, before I could find the words; we hadn't exactly planned anything, so it was difficult to explain where we had planned on going.

"There is a bookstore a few blocks down Broadway, its café is pretty stellar, and would you guys be interested in going there?" He asked.

Not my small alcove from the world? Please not.

To my relief he led the way down Broadway in the opposite direction of my favorite cozy little bookstore, after a few minutes chatting, we ended up at Mysterious Bookshop in TriBeCa.

I was relived, I wasn't sure why, it wasn't as if I owned my little alcove of wonderfulness. In fact I should have wanted them to be prosperous, well supported by my business and my friends. I was selfish; I wanted it to be just for myself and the other strangers that happened upon it.

Ezra and I had hardly spoken and I had already been a little fifteen minutes in his company. I was brilliant. The look he shot me, as we entered the bookstore told me he knew full well that Jill was a buffer. I felt like laughing as Jill mercifully guided the conversation.

"I mean, I like poetics, don't get me wrong, it beats my third year Proust class, but sometimes I'm just so sick of hearing other peoples' interpretations of what Poe meant or what certain things symbolize in their opinion." Jill said, giving finger quotes to 'in their opinion' and rolling her eyes slightly.

"You don't like that literature is so subjective?" Ezra asked, eyebrow raised a fraction, I knew that look, and it bothered me slightly that I could still read him so accurately. The look had been directed at countless students in our English class, it meant that Ezra didn't agree but still had to be diplomatic about it.

"Exactly," Jill smiled.

"I guess for me the subjectivity, the fluidity, the molding of thought; those things are what make literature beautiful." Ezra said softly, to temper the blow of disagreeing. "What do you think Aria?" He asked, I wasn't expecting it.

"Um, well I actually believe those things make literature and art as well, more than just beautiful; I think those things make it timeless, which is essential if one wants to suggest that anything _truly_ meant something in the first place." I told him, the way his eyes seared into me, told me that he liked my point of view, the charge in his eyes made me grateful for the buffer Jill provided.

"Is that your thesis for the term paper?" Jill asked, probably feeling a little left out.

I laughed, in a good natured fashion, she didn't seem catty about it and I was honestly grateful for the intercession and the divide she offered between whatever it was that was burning between Ezra and I.

"It totally should be!" I chuckled, "Hey, let's grab something to drink" I stated pointing to the café in the corner of the sitting area.

"Hey you are both students, let me grab them, what do you ladies want?" Ezra inquired. His eyes catching mine again, burning me, forcing me to quickly chime out a hot chocolate which was the first thing that came to mind.

"Jill?" He asked, turning his attention to her, my heart hoped his gaze had less intensity, my mind told me I was just crazy.

"Do they do those iced mocha things here?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so; I'll let you know if it is a no go." He said with a smile and then left us to select a table.

Jill set on me quickly, "So _you_ don't want _him_ to get the wrong idea?" She asked.

"Uh, yeah why?" I asked,

"You guys have some crazy sexual tension, that's all I'm saying." Jill stated shaking her head.

I sighed.

"I mean what's wrong with him?" Jill asked and then continued before I had the chance to say anything, "He seems like a great guy, I know you are new here but New York if you haven't noticed isn't exactly loaded with 'great guys'." She informed me.

"I actually just got out of a relationship this past spring; it really shattered me. I'm not looking to date anyone right now." I told her. It wasn't a lie, unless you counted the massive omission, the fact that Ezra was the guy that had left me broken and ruined.

"I'm sorry to hear that…theoretically speaking would you be upset if someone else went out with Ezra." She asked.

"Well, I'm seventeen so technically I'm too young for him anyways." I told her, trying to ignore the ice that was mingling with my blood. It was true, I wasn't old enough to be with him, he had said so himself in fewer and vaguer words. So what right did I have to stand in anyone else's way?

"Age is just a number that's what they say," Jill stated, "but seriously, you wouldn't be upset if say I tried to get a date with him? I mean he is buying us coffee and he doesn't even know me, the last guy I dated wanted me to go Dutch on _everything_." Jill explained.

I felt my heart beat from inside my chest, it wasn't any faster than normal but it was more apparent somehow, like a tempo in my chest and in my ears was more pronounced. It begged my mind to say something or do something, to dissuade Jill in some way. I couldn't my brain and mouth refused, my pride refused but heart sunk as the words left my mouth with confident.

"It is fine; Ezra is free to date anyone he pleases." I told her with the grace that I didn't feel.

"Thanks, but don't worry I'll try not to dominate the conversation," She smiled, preening with her hair and readjusting her grey beanie hat slightly; it looked decent on her, and complemented he strawberry blonde hair.

"I'm not worried about that," I told her with a false sort of humor, hoping that she wouldn't see that _I was worried about something_.

* * *

**Authors Note:** If you have any questions, queries, concerns, confusion or would like clarification on anything please leave it in a review. That is how I can see if something isn't worded clearly or is things aren't as obvious as I intend them to be. If people have questions I am more than happy to try and answer them.

P.S Last chapter (before the chaos of that ensued posting chapter 4) got 5 reviews from 149 hits...That is terrible odds. Sure some people might have read it twice but the true is people aren't reviewing. I know it is the psychological nature to assume someone else will review, but guys, the reality is that **people aren't**. The first step I always take is begging (see above) the next is more drastic and a story is generally removed all together or no longer updated. Some say that it is mean, but I feel I don't have a choice. Would you do to work if nobody paid you? Would you do anything for zero result? Let's not let it come to that, I'll update as long as **YOU** review.

If you like this story, you need to show you care, simple as that.


	5. Part of Something That You Lost

**Chapter 5: Part of Something That You Lost**

Slow dancing on the boulevard  
In the quiet moments while the city's still dark  
Sleepwalking through the summer rain and the tired spaces  
You could hear her name when she was warm and tender  
And you held her arms around you  
There was nothing but her love and affection  
She was crazy for you  
Now she's part of something that you lost

And for all you know  
This could be  
The difference between what you need  
And what you wanna be  
Yeah, what you wanna be

**The Difference- Matchbox 20**

* * *

I felt highly satisfied with myself after I settled into my seat on the subway; it would be a few moments before the train would be jettisoned through the underground. I shifted my belonging so that my book bag was on my lap and started looking for the book of poetry I was supposed to have read by next class.

Then my phone was vibrating in my purse and I still hadn't found the poetry book, so I decided I wouldn't bother with answering it. If it was my mother I would be home in 20 minutes and she could always call back if it was something desperate.

"You should get probably that…" A voice from the a few people away from to told me. I turned to glare; it was none of his business. My phone was on the lowest ring setting and was not disturbing anyone.

Instead of a nosy utter stranger, it was Ezra and he had his phone to his ear.

The automated message warned passages that the doors were closing and then the train was in motion. I was still just gaping at him. Then I pulled it together.

"It's probably not important." I told him, then turning my attention back to my search for my book.

A moment later he was holding the rail nearest my seat.

"You played me!" He told me, he had put his phone away. I finally had my poetry book in hand and looked up at him, big mistake; the intensity from the coffee shop was back and then some.

"What?" I asked the exasperation masking the confusion and if I'm truly honest for once, my hearts delight that he was here, that he had followed after me.

"You sicced your friend on me Aria." He said dryly with his own look exasperation.

"Um, well no, I didn't. Jill isn't my friend, more of an acquaintance and I didn't sic her on you. She might have liked you but let's be honest you are pretty charming when you want to be, that is when you aren't breaking someone's heart, of course. So it is perfectly understandable if she decided you were someone to chase after. I mean—" he cut me off.

"Are you taking a class in semantics or something?" He asked sharply.

"Why are you upset?" I asked, my tone neutral, but even when Ezra and I were together, I had hardly seen him angry.

"I invited **you** to coffee, I wanted to hear about **you**, about **your** life, about what **you're** doing now and instead **you** cop out, grab a buffer and **we** exchange less than five sentences and nothing of relevance." He told me.

I stifled a mocking laugh. So that's what it was… his angry was clearly because he felt so entitled to holding stock in my life it and was put out when this was denied to him. If it wasn't so pathetic it would have almost have been funny.

"Frankly Ezra, I have no clue what you want from me. You say you want to know me, did you ever think that maybe you forfeit that privilege? I'm not interested in pandering to you; I'm not interested in wasting my life away making the same mistakes. Regardless of what you might think of me, I'm not a sycophantic, idiot, child, I do learn from my mistakes and I try to avoid the insanity implied in repeating them." I stated, evenly, calmly and with a glare of my own.

He looked cut, like I had knifed him right here on the subway train, in the crowd of bystanders that had been undoubtedly listening to our charade, and I was watching him bleed out.

"I don't believe you." He said after what felt like forever and a day. Was he serious? The sheer gall of this man was exceptional; they should have sequestered him for scientific research.

"What part?" I questioned tersely.

"You don't get to play games, invite the friend out, humor me, pretend that your cool with meeting up somewhere and then pull the 'I've learned' card." He stated bluntly.

My mouth dropped open in shock. It took a moment to formulate words.

"So, you're saying I'm a liar?" I asked, I knew I was a liar in some respects, but about this? Not a chance.

"Yes. I can't say for sure if you are lying to me or if you are just lying to yourself, but someone is being lied to and I guess all I am trying to say is, grow up. If you don't want to see me, don't see me but don't play games Aria." He offered.

The condemnation was thick, my goodness, what on earth gave him the notion that he could behave all high and mighty? Did he honestly forget who was the real gamer was in the whole scheme of things?

"Oh, so hypothetically I could give this brand of advice to someone who wanted to date a girl but then decided better of it months into the relationship? That's good to know. No, adults never play childish games," I offered sardonically, and then laughed. "I guess by your standard neither of us are adults yet." I added cheekily.

It was his turn to look surprised and at a loss for words. "I didn't play you Aria. I swear I never did and I would never do that. That situation was entirely different; I can't explain it now and do it justice—"

I cut him off this time, "Since I've turned over this new leaf and I am on this new kick of not even attempting to humor you, I'll be honest and tell you, I could care less about your reasons, whatever they were, they make no difference." I stood then, "My stop is up next." I informed him.

"So that's it?" He asked sounding argumentative again. His body shifted position so that I could not edge passed him without brushing into him or into the larger man behind and slightly across from him.

"As things stand, I have no idea what could be left for us to talk about." I told him.

"So you're saying you feel _nothing_." He asked gesturing wildly between us, I'm sure looking to the other passengers, a little off kilter.

I laughed at that one, what a jerk. "Last time I checked **my** feelings had no bearing on **your** course of action. I'm not going to flatter them this time." I said curtly. "Excuse me."

As quickly as humanly possible, his arm slipped to the small of my back and before I could think or do anything, he was kissing me. I was shocked by it, not in a million years would I have expected it, it was raw, it was passionate and held an intensity that I had never known, not even from him. It was alarming and slightly frightening because I was trying to get over him and all the shattered piece of my heart jolted back together when our lips met, but promptly felt apart again as he pulled away.

"I didn't want you to miss your stop." He informed me, seeming to be perfectly fine and completely with it, and unaffected, I found myself trying to blink back confusion, hardly remembering where I was or what he was talking about. I felt totally senseless, and I didn't like it. I wasn't even thinking about what any of this might mean. I hit me hard that this was the first time we had ever kissed in public. It seemed so bold, until I remember that nobody knew anything about us, and nobody cared to know either.

"Call me when you're done with this charade and **we** can talk." Ezra stated, tucking a post it, with assumedly his number on it, into the pocket of my jeans.

* * *

It had been a whole week since _the incident_, that's what I'm calling it, my entire being refused to acknowledge it and leaving it as undefined as possible was the best course of action under the circumstances. The fact that it was Thursday again, after a whole week, seemed to heighten my mind's awareness to _the incident_. That's not to say it ever really left my mind the other days this week, but today it was front and center again and I could hardly think of anything else. Regardless of my mental state, I went to work and then I went to class and thankfully I also remember Jill's promised soy milk green tea latte. I was doing it, I was surviving! This meant I fine, my world was still on its axis, my entire life hadn't fallen apart, I was stronger than I before, I was stronger than I ever thought I would be. I had made it a week. Here's to celebrating small victories!

"Hey, Aria, wait up!" Jill called as I was leaving the class at the end of our lecture.

I stopped and waited for Jill.

"So, huge favor to ask," she began, "I never got Ezra's number last week and I was hoping—I" she began monotonously slowly and I cut her off, you end the talk of Ezra as quickly as possible.

"You were hoping I could give it to you, know problem, it is in my phone. Just let me find it." I offered, moving to fish my phone out of my purse.

"Well, no I was actually hoping that you could call him and give him my number…It's just this thing, I feel like maybe it would be less weird. I mean, I know it is the 21st century and girls ask guys out and all that but after taking an anthropology class, I just can't help but feeling the man is the one that is supposed to do the chasing…would you just give him my number and he can do with it want he will?" Jill asked.

'Ugh no', I thought but found myself nodding in agreement. What was wrong with me, why didn't I have the nerve to tell her what I thought?

"You will! Thanks so much, you are seriously the best. You have my number from the class presentation right?" She asked.

I nodded again. "I'll tell him later tonight."

That was a lie, I waited until the next day, when I was almost certain he would be in class.

My assumption was accurate and I nearly whooped for joy when I heard this voicemail message rather than having to actually speak to him, which I didn't think I could handle.

"**Hey it's Ezra, I'm either away from my phone or I don't feel like talking to you, kidding Mom—you know I love you, but if you leave me a message I'll get back to you when I have a chance." **

The beep sounded. I had written out what I wanted to say, so I would be less likely to mess it up.

"Hi Ezra, It's Aria Montgomery" I intentionally included the last name because of how it had bruised me slightly when he did it and I longed for formality; so that he wouldn't pick my message apart and fine out that my heart still longed for him. "I'm calling on behalf of Jill Hastings, you met her last week; she wanted me you pass on her number. You can reach her at 917-555-1230, all I ask is that you keep everything that happened between us confidential. Thanks, bye."

I pressed 1 after I recorded the message so that I could listen to it play back and see how I sounded. It was strange hearing myself talking that way. I sounded a bit like a secretary; uninvested emotionally and mature. I like that, I certainly didn't feel uninvested inside, but I was glad I could fake it.

* * *

_Songs that helped me write this chapter:_

_My Love Will Follow You- Dierks Bentley_

_The Difference- Matchbox 20_

_**Author's Note:**_

_**I always wonder how old people are who are reading my stories. I'm 22, feel free to add your age in your review if you want to x3**_

_**What do you think, any ideas about what happens next? Questions, queries, concerns always good to hear! I love suggestions, I don't always go for them but it is always neat to see other peoples creativity! **_

_**Is everyone pumped for Christmas? 12 days! Woohoo— Opps let's not let Aria hear that, it wasn't very grown up of me ;) Hehe**_

_**Have a wonderful evening! **_


	6. Exactly Like I Used To

Bea: Thanks so much, I appreciate that you told me that. I can totally tell that this is constructive criticism and so I'm grateful. I looked back over the last few chapters and I can totally see what you're saying! In my mind I see Aria as trying to puff herself up and hide behind big, pretentious words. I see her almost as a child playing dress-up, putting up this facade and trying to pretend she's all grown up. I am going to try to tone it down. Thanks for this. I am totally serious when I say I welcome critique! Anything people, tell me and I will try to explain my reasoning and/or try to change things.

Oh and Ezra totally calls Aria out for being false last chapter, yes her walls are up but she is also trying to project that she is 'grown up' now.

Thanks for the review. Special props to **ezrialove** for reviewing every chapter! Thanks! You are fantastic, it is so wonderful that you would do that when all 5 chapters were already loaded. This chapter is for you. I wasn't planning to release it until the weekend. I had an exam today so I was pretty wasted, but have put in the time tonight to get this baby finished. All for you darling! ;)

* * *

**Chapter 6: Exactly Like I Used To**

_I want you, just exactly like I used to  
And baby this is only bringing me down  
I said I want you, just exactly like I used to  
And baby this is only bringing me down_

_-Kings of Leon: I Want You_

* * *

My mother actually asked me to snap out of it. She kept asking what was going on, if something was wrong, if my GPA was slipping, anything that she could think of that might have merited this kind of funk.

"Nope, everything is great." I told her in a lackluster tone , finishing the rest of the salad that was on my plate and then getting up to scrape the rest of my food into the garbage, ending the conversation by depositing my plate into the dishwasher.

"You are missing your friends aren't you?" She said with an 'ah-ha!' tone.

"Yeah I miss them. Emily Skype'd me last night, so that was nice. And Spence sent a nice and long email earlier in the week. She's met this guy, but she said it isn't anything yet so she isn't revealing his name" I informed her, mostly to get her off my back. "It isn't really the same though." I sighed. If I had to be 'bummed' about something it might as well have been about my friends.

My real reason, I knew was a lot more complicated than that and not something I wanted to share with my mother.

Ezra hadn't called back. I had left him that voicemail on Friday and it had been four days and he hadn't done anything, at least not that I was aware of. He might have called Jill for all I knew. Some part of me had expected him to call me and at very least berate me for trying to set him up with Jill. I wasn't prepared for the lack of response. It made me question my motives. Why was I so disappointed? Did I want to see him? If I did want to see him, was I just asking for pain?

The contemplative side of me wondered what Ezra was up to, how he could kiss me like he had and then seem to be so unaffected. He was calm and collected; he hadn't even risen to the voicemail bait I had given him. Here I was feeling— what I presume a junkie feels like when they haven't had their fix recently.

I felt agitated. I had his number; I could call him at any time and try to see where we stood. I felt as if trying to contact him automatically meant failure, but my heart screamed that if I was feeling this way, then I had already failed.

My mind thought to Jill's line about what she had learned in her anthropology class. Something in me agreed with her, I suppose whatever it was wanted Ezra to fight for me, it wanted him to chase me. Maybe it was something physiological; maybe it was because he had given up on us before. As if the betrayal from the past forced me to demand validation, to expect to be wooed and won, because I had been so easily abandon before. Why did he ditch me? What happened? Was it something I did? It always returned to that. It was too much to think about, the more I tried to solve my inner questions the more I discovered I didn't know.

I came to the realization that I couldn't piece together this puzzle alone. I had a puzzle going but less than half the pieces. It was no wonder I was driving myself mad trying to finish it. Ezra had the missing puzzle pieces. That thought brought me to the realization that I needed to call him and we did actually need to talk.

My hands were actually sweating when I sat down on my bed with my cell out ready to call him. I needed to know. Knowing was the only thing that could bring closure.

He picked up on the second ring. Offering a brisk 'hello'

"Hi Ezra, it's me. I was hoping we could talk." I said, it was all I could manage.

"No buffers this time?" He asked, with a sigh.

"Yeah," I said, I felt like I was 12 again, talking to a boy I liked, completely inarticulate as soon as I opened my mouth. "Do you have time tonight?" I asked.

"Well, I should mark these papers, I well—" He sighed again.

"It's okay, tomorrow also works." I said, with a slight frown, I told myself it was completely ridiculous to feel dejected because I wasn't a 'priority' in his life. I felt so silly for having that thought cross my mind. It was like I was a jealous girlfriend but I didn't have any right to feel that way.

"Why do I feel like if I leave it till then you might change your mind?" He asked, mostly to himself. "Let's talk tonight; can I pick you up?"

"Okay." I said biting my lip, praying I wouldn't regret it and then supplied him with my address. Telling him I would meet him outside.

It was seven when I told my mother I was going to watch the live music and the cornerstone café. I even asked her shamelessly if she wanted to join me. Knowing full well that because she had already showered and was wearing her pajamas that the answer would definitely be 'maybe next time'.

It felt strange to be sneaking around again. That was the first thing that hit me. Then next thing was how normal it felt to be meeting up with Ezra

He was on time; I met him on the steps of our apartment building. Needless to say he looked good, I knew intuitively that I looked fine as well but internally felt as if I had spent the last week crying, even though no tears had been shed.

"Hey," he offered.

"Hey," I mimicked, I felt to flustered, so strange.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

"No, I'm— well, um yeah. I'm a bit nervous, almost nauseous actually," I told him, wondering to myself if I would always be so easy. Let's put it this way, I wouldn't do well in a police interrogation room if Ezra was the one asking the questions.

"I know, I am too, it feels like there is a lot of pressure on this, doesn't it?" He commented.

I wasn't sure if pressure was what I felt, I felt uneasy but I couldn't explain why. I wasn't sure of much these days. My heart was being held together with chewing gum and paperclips; it didn't leave much room for mistakes, maybe I was just scared I'd get hurt again.

"I just need some answers." I told him, softly, the words barely strong enough to leave my lips. We were still standing on the apartment steps.

"Let's grab a some coffees and a park bench." He offered, linking his arm with mine naturally.

It was as if we had this unspoken rule that we weren't going to speak until we found our coffee and our bench. It was so peaceful; it was so wonderful just walking with him again. If my heart didn't know better, it was as if we had never ended. Walking in silence with Ezra made me feel like I had discovered a time machine and fixed things so he wouldn't let me down.

It couldn't last I realized after the vender handed Ezra his change and Ezra hand me a cappuccino. The next task was finding a bench, that didn't take long and as we approached it seem that the bench was looming in the distance, ominous and cloaked in tragedy. I wanted to avoid it, pretend it wasn't there, find an excuse so that we didn't have to break the perfect silence we had found walking. Some part of me cherished the illusion that everything was as it had been, that nothing had gone awry, that nothing had changed. If I was honest it was a big part of me that held this mentality.

I wasn't sure if Ezra sensed my hesitation or if he also felt like a man heading to the gallows for his own reasons, regardless of his reason, his pace also slowed. It took us double the time I expected to reach the bench. It was with a heavy sigh that we both sat down. Initially I was about six inches away from Ezra's side but he rectified that, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me over to him, so that my side was pressed against his. It felt secure and warm, and I wished this cozy silence wouldn't have to end.

"Have you ever felt afraid of something?" Ezra asked me, breaking the silence that was presiding over us.

"Yeah," I answered instinctually, the way he looked expectantly at me I knew he was expecting me to continue. "Um, after Alison died I was so scared. It didn't help that nobody really knew what happened. I was scared to sleep alone, until I came back from Iceland, after they found her body," I offered. "Until after I met you actually," I said in almost a whisper. I had never thought of it like that before.

"So you probably understand what fear does to you?" He said.

"Yeah, of course," I whispered.

"It makes a person behave differently than they would normally." He said, "I got scared Aria. It was as if suddenly I realized everything that was at stake. It wasn't just my job, or getting stripped of my teaching certificate if someone found out and told. It was your reputation, your family's reactions, the future. Everything, I panicked."

I didn't know what to say.

"I don't even know how to explain it, I know it is impossible to excuse it, I'm not trying to do that. It seems I need to clarify things, in order to show you that my motives weren't purely selfish and that I wasn't just trying to play you. Do you mind if I try to explain?"

"No, I mean I've been dying for explanation since you ended things." I said, not wanting to meet his eyes but somehow unable to look away as I said it.

He winced. "It was after we worked together on the play. I felt so torn. I knew what I felt, I knew how amazing we were together but I also knew how unacceptable the whole relationship was and I hated it Aria. I'd heard snippets of rumors; I knew what people were saying. I couldn't get my head around how something so right could be so wrong. I hate lying more than anything, well maybe more than anything except for asking you do the same."

He let out a sigh and took in a huge intake of breath. "You're better than that you know, you are worth more than having to sneak around and lie to your family. I hate myself for not being able to walk away sooner," He stated and my eyebrows must have shot up, because he placed his hand on my leg in a calming motion, "but I also hate myself for walking away. I am so conflicted Aria; I have no idea what to do. I thought if I left, I wouldn't see you and if I didn't see you, then I could get you off my mind." His head was bowed then, his voice had dropped low so I had to strain to hear him in the quietness of the park.

"You left a voicemail Ezra that is like marginally above breaking up in a text message." I told him, the emotions I was feeling clear in my voice and my eyes watering.

"I know and I'm sorry. I knew I wouldn't be able to do it in person. I knew I wouldn't be able to look you in the eyes and tell you it was over. It wasn't over, not inside, I couldn't convince myself of that, and how was I supposed to convince you?" he asked sounding desperate that I understand.

I nodded; urging him to continue by squeezing his hand in what I felt was a comforting manner.

Then he chuckled dryly. "I've seen you everywhere since then. I stayed with my sister in St. Paul for a few months before I got a job here. I thought if I got far enough away I'd be in the clear. You never left me alone Aria." He whispered. "I couldn't decide for the life of me if that was comforting or if it was a curse…" he offered trailing off.

"I wanted you to have better than what I had to offer you, but everything in me despised the idea of you finding someone else. It still does. I have never been more miserably than I have been this year; I hope that at least makes you happy." He sighed again.

I was just staring at him wide-eyed, not sure if I was supposed to say anything or allow him to continue his testimony.

"I know that we can't just start where we left off." He stated, running his hand through his hair.

"We can't?" I found myself asking, my heart must have snuck that one in before I could stop it.

"Look Aria, I love you, I always will but love doesn't exactly thrive when a relationship is built on dishonesty and lying. If I want to have you, if we have any respect for ourselves and each other we need to start off on the right footing this time." He informed me. Again I felt a bit childish; it was overrun by the thought that he loved me. That thought alone sent my body into a mixture of emotions. I felt like my world was spinning, like being on a delightful merry-go-round for too long. My heart clenched feeling glee for the first time since Ezra had left.

"I'm sorry for kissing you on the subway, it was wrong of me. I just wanted to breakthrough to you, and if I am honest I had wanted to touch you since the night I found you again." He said looking slightly sheepish.

"Where do we go from here?"

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**Author's Note: **

Alright. So, I am banking on TONS of reviews for this chapter, I hope I am not too eager but I love seeing people's reactions. It is one of the best things in life! Reading reviews is like a tray of freshly baked cookies or brownies straight from the oven, then putting ice cream on top and chocolate sauce. Yum! Reviews are every bit as good as those things! **So make me fat people!** Haha! I most likely will not be able to update until after the 20th but begging helps ;)

Love ya all!


	7. Whoever Made Those Rules

Hey Guys, so I know last chapter might have seemed a bit abrupt with Aria quick change of mind. I have the tendency to drag things out to the point they aren't fun anymore, so I am trying to avoid that in this story, to keep it lively, keep it fun.

brandnewx3: Alright, I'm a history major, English minor and go figure when I need a break from all that reading and academic writing, I decide to read and write…sometimes I wonder if I am a bit crazy! Thanks for being interested.

**Chapter 7: ****Whoever Made Those Rules**

Whoever made those rules  
Never looked into your eyes  
On a moonlight night  
Who would have thought that I could have found  
A love this strong  
It can't be wrong  
Less is more made sense before  
But now I can't get enough  
Baby you made a fool of who ever made those rules

_-Doc Walker – Whoever Made Those Rules_

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The question "Where do we go from here?" stuck in the air between us. I was waiting expectantly for him to tell me something wonderful, something that would make this night more perfect than it had already been.

"Well, that's the thing I don't really know Aria." He sighed, "Do you think we could be just friends for a while? Until you are legal, ugh! That sounds so terrible to say," he said, biting his lip then, looking like he was chiding himself for saying it out loud.

_Just friends?_ That stung. It brought me down a level in the ecstasy department, that's for sure.

"Um, yeah, I guess." I stated, trying not to let my lack of enthusiasm show through.

"I think that would be a good start for us, it'll be really tough you understand that right?" He asked.

I almost laughed, "Yeah, I understand that." I said dryly, I wasn't stupid; I had been dying to kiss him since he confessed to loving me. How on earth was I supposed NOT act on that after so long of being away from him? After so long of missing him, after knowing that when we kissed my heart felt complete again? It was near torture.

'_It'll be really tough'_ was a complete understatement.

"And we are going to have to tell your parents about our past before we start dating." He stated, laying down the rules for our future relationship.

"What? Ezra, you can't make me do that." I told him, seriously it would ruin everything. I could just imagine my mother's face as the reality of my betrayal hit her. My mom wasn't as strong as she had been; she didn't have the support that she used to when she and my dad were happy. She was fragile, I was sure that my betrayal would be a terrible blow.

"That one is non-negotiable for me Aria, but we don't have to cross that bridge until we get to it."

I sighed.

"What's up? What's wrong?" He asked quickly.

"I don't know, you just sort of sprang this all on me, not caring about how I might feel about it." I informed him, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve on my coffee cup.

"Look, I'm not trying to be overbearing here but we have to do things right this time around. This is our shot, our chance to not make the same mistakes." He said excitedly.

"Do you know how badly I've been wanting to kiss you? And then we have to be just friends, do you know how much that sucks?" I asked him feeling incredibly agitated.

"You're killing Aria, you know that? That's another rule, no speaking of things we want to do to each other, because talk like that is bound to get out of hand fast." He stated sound slightly stern.

"Can I just get it out of my system, and then we can start the friends' thing?" I asked, sounding a little bit like I was begging.

"Aria, it kills me to say no, but I really think that is a bad idea. I know this is gonna be difficult." He stated.

"Ezra, if you think this is just going to be _difficult_ then you don't want me like I want you." I told him. He looked a little bit shell-shocked. It in my opinion it was borderline impossible and I wasn't sure we would actually be able to pull it off. In fact I was 60-40 in favour of the fact that we were going to fail miserably at this _just friends_ thing. Yet that type of failure sounded incredible, and I didn't think I'd mind in the slightest if we just couldn't do it and had to resort to a massive make out session. Something told me Ezra would freak.

"I don't even know what to say to that," he said after a moment, shaking his head and struggling to maintain his neutral but adamant expression.

"So we're friends." I said, the words didn't taste or sound very good. It was a step up from never seeing him again, but such a demotion from what we had been. "Are we free to date other people?" I asked offhandedly, I didn't want anyone else but clarity was needed. Could he date someone else?

He had a blank look for a minute. "Is there someone else?" He asked, he didn't sound jealous, more shocked than anything else.

"No, of course not. That's the funny thing, I didn't even want to find someone else, even if it would help me get over you and I didn't want it. I guess I kind of felt that at least if I was still hurting I hadn't lost you completely." I offered then feeling just a little bit silly for mentioning it. "I just want to know what to expect I guess." I told him.

"So were are like exclusive friends with no benefits till your next birthday?" Ezra said, "Until we tell your parents." He said with an exhale, as if he was nervous already and my birthday was still almost half a year away.

"Do I seriously have to be eighteen? Isn't dating me legal, unless we 'sleep together' sleep together?" I asked him.

"Aria something in me hates to be the guy that tows the line, the foolish guy that plays with fire until he winds up burnt or the one that bends the rules until they break. We are different than other people, but I don't want to take that for granted anymore. I don't want to delude myself this time and imagine that our uniqueness would make everything okay." He paused for a moment and then scratched his neck. "They say love is patient, and something in me says that if I believe our love could last a lifetime, why can't I wait? I don't want to rush anything this time Aria, I don't need to date you to love you, I found that one out the hard way." He said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I felt his warmth sink into me. This was pretty nice I had to admit, sure it wasn't hot and bothered, it wasn't letting me satisfy my urge to kiss him, but man he it feel wonderful.

I sighed, "Okay, just friends."

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AN: I'm back, I might be spastic with the updates...I have a new semester now and it is chaos! I'm taking a creative writing class, so that will be where my effort is focused for the most part. I will try to be fair and not leave you lovely people hanging, but I'm only one person and there are only so many hours to not sleep in the day. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! PLEASE REVIEW!


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